Frankie's Demise
by heatqueen
Summary: This is set straight after 'All Access'. Stella wasn't okay after she shot Frankie, no matter how hard she tried to pretend to be. Kind of Smacked but not romantic.


**Frankie's Demise**

**Summary: This is set straight after 'All Access'. Stella wasn't okay after she shot Frankie, no matter how hard she tried to pretend to be. Kind of Smacked but not romantic.**

There was a reason why Stella had a 'no men in my house' rule. As she'd said, her apartment was a safe haven, somewhere she could always return to when things were bad. It was her own personal space, somewhere no trouble could invade, somewhere that was clean of bad memories and difficult emotions. Relationships always brought about complicated feelings which is why she never allowed her boyfriends through the front door. Men, no matter how much she liked them, were untrustworthy, which rendered sharing her safe haven with them too risky.

Frankie Mala had proved her right, the sick, pretentious bastard. He had seemed like such a sweet, genuine guy but in the heat of things his true colours had come to light. By attacking Stella in her own home he had done the one thing Stella had worked so hard to prevent - he'd destroyed the safety within the apartment and shattered the strong walls Stella had built up around herself. Now, as she walked back in having just convinced Mac that she was fine, she no longer felt that sense of relief she usually had upon entering the apartment. As she looked around her home, now a once-was crime scene, she felt tears spring to her eyes. This place wasn't safe anymore and there was now nowhere in the world that she had a comfort zone.

The place was now a wreck, every single piece of damage a reminder of the events with Frankie. The blood pool on the carpet, trailing into the bathroom and ending in spatters in the bath tub, brought vivid flashbacks of Stella with her hands tied up, being shoved onto the floor and dragged like yesterday's trash into the bathroom. As she remembered this, her wrists began to throb, not quite healed from their wounds yet. Her eyes still stinging, she began the difficult task of cleaning up.

That damned statue was still there. It was going to go for sure. It too was blood spattered and it gazed maliciously at her as if it was alive and trying to taunt her. It didn't matter that Frankie was dead when everything in this room made it feel like he was still here, unable to accept Stella breaking up with him and doing everything possible, including assaulting her, to get his revenge.

She'd told Mac that she could handle it but as she finished cleaning she realized she wouldn't be able to stay here without the constant reminders about what had happened. She pondered her next move. She had always been a strong, feisty woman - weakness, when it occurred, was something she kept private and didn't like to show to other people. Leaving for a hotel would be like admitting her weakness, and people would know she wasn't really okay.

Her mind made up, she grabbed a bag and stuffed some clothes into it. She could try all she liked to act like things were back to normal but in her heart she knew the apartment was no longer a sanctuary, no longer a place she could come back to, but more like another bad memory to run away from lest it would try to haunt her. Tears streaming down her face, she left the apartment and hailed a cab, not looking back as it took her away from all the bloodshed.

There was only one place she wanted to be right now, and as she approached the door, she hesitated before ringing the bell. For a fleeting second she wanted to call the taxi back and return to where she'd come from but as she thought of her home, she saw the face of Frankie Mala leering at her, telling her _"Not a sound" _just like last time when she'd been trapped in the bath tub. She closed her eyes and did her best to force his face out of her mind, then rang the doorbell.

A sense of mild relief washed over her when Mac answered the door, his kind face gazing into her eyes and welcoming her into his home. She wasn't sure what to say so she simply followed him in and he took her jacket. He made some tea for both of them and they sat down to talk.

"You're not okay," he stated matter-of-factly.

Stella shrugged. No, she wasn't okay, but while all she wanted was to break down in front of him, she found herself too afraid to speak up and ask for his help. Her eyes bore into his, silently reaching out to him, and he obviously understood her silent message.

"It's okay not to be okay, you know."

"I can't shake it," she admitted. "I can't stop seeing his face. How did I not see it coming? I'm a detective!"

"Stell, there's no way you could have possibly known - no way anybody could have known."

She frowned, disbelieving Mac's words, disbelieving everything in fact. Just a few days ago she would never have imagined Frankie doing something like this. Then she'd found the sex tape on the internet and everything about him had changed. Suddenly he was no longer the nice guy but a sick man with malicious intentions. She wonders how she didn't see past the sweet façade.

"I should have -"

"No you shouldn't," Mac interrupted. "There's nothing you could have done, Stella. This wasn't your fault."

If she'd been a weaker character she might have blamed herself for breaking up with him, but being the strong person she was, she knew that she'd done the right thing dumping him after she'd found the sex tape. She, after all, was human too, not to mention a respectable woman. Frankie had exploited that with the sex video. Therefore everything after Stella had broken up with him was his fault, not hers.

She sipped her tea, the warm liquid slightly relieving her tense body.

"Stay here tonight," Mac offered.

"I don't want to invade -"

_"Stay _here tonight," he repeated firmly, giving Stella one of those stares from when he was in 'Boss' mode. Stella allowed a small smile and nodded, silently thanking him for doing this.

Ironic, she thought, that straight after being hurt by a man she was finding comfort in the home of another. But then again, Mac wasn't a boyfriend or sex slave - he was her best friend and work partner, someone she'd known for a long time and trusted with more than her life. He was the first one she would always turn to, just as he'd been the first one now, when she was hurting so badly after Frankie's assault. He, of all men, was the only man she trusted and, she was sure, the only one she would dare to let into her apartment. He wouldn't exploit her like Frankie had. He was a respectful man just as she was a respectful woman.

He would be a much better boyfriend than Frankie.

"You okay?" asked Mac, snapping Stella out of her reverie. She realized that in her daydream enough time had passed for Mac to leave, make up the guest bedroom and come back.

"I will be," she replied, flushing red at her last thought. She knew there was no point in lying to Mac who would know she was lying if she said she was fine. After all, she'd come to him and not the other way round.

She set the cup on the table and made for the guest bedroom, changed, and climbed into the blue sheets and soft duvet. It was much more comfortable than the hospital bed she'd been in. Turning out the lights, she found herself gazing up at the darkness, her eyes wide open and sleep not arriving. She could still hear the doorbell ringing and Frankie leaving to see off whoever it was, could still feel her fingertips slicing open as she desperately tried to use the razor to cut the strings that bound her wrists together, could still hear the gunshots fired from her very own hand, the ones that had taken his life and finally ended his assault. As she remembered these things her subconscious invaded and the images started to form before her eyes like a waking dream - the blood, the statue, the razor, the gun…

She sat up in bed gasping as she broke out of the nightmare, tears once again forming from her eyelids. For a moment she thought she was still in her apartment then remembered that she'd come to Mac's. As she sat there crying the door opened again and Mac came over to her and hugged her. She allowed her head to fall on his shoulder as she let out every emotion that had been pent up inside her since Frankie's attack.

"Stell, I've got you," he comforted. "He's not here, he can't hurt you again, okay?"

Stella nodded, his warm embrace helping her to calm down, and she wiped the tears away. There was something about Mac's presence that made her feel safe, the exact same feeling that she used to have only in her own apartment.

"He's not here," she repeated, trying to make herself believe those words. "He's not here, he can't hurt me. It's safe here."

"That's right, and I will make sure you are always safe for as long as you decide to stay here," Mac replied. Stella raised an eyebrow - was this Mac offering her to stay for longer than just one night?

"This is the only safe haven I have left," she whispered as she came to that realization.

"I will always be here for you as long as you need me," Mac replied.

"I will always need you."

She spoke the words from her heart, knowing that she would never survived this if it wasn't for him. They had seen each other through their darkest moments - for Mac, Claire's death, and Stella, Frankie's assault - each time being there for each other to pick up the pieces or simply be a shoulder to cry on. Mac had not failed her as other men had, and was the only man she knew with absolute certainty would never do so.

Mac was the only man ever worthy of coming into her apartment. Never Frankie. Mac.


End file.
